Huff, huff... huff, huff...

The air was cold, and the sky was dark. Trees blurred past as the young woman ran for her life. Behind her, barking dogs and the shouts of men and women echoed through the forest.

"She went that way! After her!" a man's voice called out, distant but closing in. The dogs' footsteps grew louder, their barks sharper as they gained on her.

The young woman's lungs burned. She had been running for what felt like forever, her body covered in cuts and bruises. Her hair was closely shaved, and her cloak was in tatters. She knew she couldn't keep going much longer.

Reaching a clearing in the forest, she skidded to a stop and turned to face the direction from which her pursuers were coming. She waited, chest heaving, until the dogs came into view. Their mouths foamed, eyes wild with the hunt. Their intent was clear—they were there to tear her apart.

"Latress Maantriz!" she screamed, calling the name into the night.

Suddenly, a figure burst from the shadows, slamming one of the dogs into a tree and piercing another with sharp, hooked claws. The creature was a deep, blood-red color, with glowing green eyes. It had the grotesque appearance of a demon, insect-like, with the menacing presence of a mantis.

Crunch... crunch...

The creature devoured the dogs' bodies while the young woman swayed, growing weaker by the second.

"D-damn... I need to hurry be—" she started, but her words were cut short by the sharp pain of an arrow embedding itself in her arm.

"FUCK!" she screamed, clutching her injured arm. Her eyes darted up to see the hunters emerging from the trees, crossbows aimed at her.

The hunters... those who are part of The Brotherhood... those who chase after magic wielders or anyone tied to magic and hunt them down to "cleanse" this world. The Brotherhood is a plague on Elyssium...

Gritting her teeth, she looked toward the creature. "GO!" she commanded.

Like a soldier following orders, the creature lunged at the hunters, injuring several of them in a brutal assault. But a few of the hunters, more skilled, dodged its attacks and struck back with glowing weapons. The creature let out a shrill scream as its form dissolved into a cloud of smoke.

"Damn you!" she gritted her teeth, preparing for another summon.

"Centri Peedlesle!" she shouted, summoning a massive centipede-like creature. Its long body coiled around the hunters, attacking with deadly precision. For a moment, it seemed victorious—until the hunters' glowing weapons struck again, killing it swiftly. The creature crumbled into a pile of smoke.

The young woman's heart raced as she stared in shock. Two creatures had fallen so quickly. One of the hunters grinned cruelly, his laughter echoing through the clearing.

"You witches are no match for us! This is the new age!" he jeered.

Now, the young woman stood alone, facing the hunters.

"Good, now kill her!" one of them ordered, and the others cheered. They pointed their crossbows at her, fingers tightening on the triggers.

A chill ran through her body as she braced for death. But just as she was about to give up, a powerful presence filled the air behind her.

She had never felt anything like it before—it was almost suffocating.

"My~ you've held on for so long. That's rather commendable."

Three women appeared behind her, their faces concealed by the hoods of their cloaks. The one in the center, her hair peeking out from her hood in long strands, white as the moon, was radiating immense magical pressure. She smiled down at the young woman before turning to the woman on her left.

"Morgana, take care of them," she commanded, her voice calm yet authoritative. The hunters were nothing to her.

Morgana bowed deeply. "Yes, My Lady."

With that, Morgana stepped forward, removing her cloak to reveal herself to the targets. She was tall, almost imposing, dressed in an intricate suit that hugged her figure, with sharp metallic parts around her shoulders and hands—almost like armor. Her expression remained emotionless as she stalked toward the hunters, passing the injured young woman.

"Oh my!" The cloaked woman on the right gasped, stepping forward and pulling down her hood. She revealed a woman with short, bouncy hair and a concerned expression. Her eyes were the same color as her hair—blonde, but without pupils. "You're hurt, my dear. Let me help you."

The young woman flinched as the other softly touched her arm, but a moment later, the arrow embedded in her arm disappeared. The wound started to vanish, as if it had never been there.

The young woman was surprised—how had the arrow vanished? She hadn't even felt it being pulled out...

"W-who are you?" she asked, bewildered.

The woman with immense power stepped closer. "My name is Rosellia Vandras, and the one healing your wounds is Isolde." Isolde gave a gentle smile. Rosellia tilted her head slightly. "What is your name, young witch?"

"My name is Cassandra," the woman replied, her voice shaky.

Rosellia smiled. "A strong name for a witch."

Before Cassandra could process what was happening, Morgana returned. Rosellia turned to her. "Ah, you're back. I assume everything went smoothly?"

Morgana cracked her knuckles, her face still indifferent. "Yes, they were just grunts. All bark, no bite."

Cassandra's eyes widened as she glanced toward where the hunters had once stood. They were still there—but in grotesque pieces. Their torsos were torn apart, dismembered arms and legs scattered across the clearing. Cassandra felt a wave of horror wash over her, questions flooding her mind.

How did I not hear anything? Why am I not covered in blood? Not even a drop of sweat on her... HOW?!

"Now..." Rosellia's voice snapped Cassandra out of her thoughts. The young woman looked at her, shaken.

"What are you going to do, Cassandra?" Rosellia asked softly.

"I-I don't know," Cassandra stammered, unsure of herself.

"You don't know?" Rosellia asked, her tone calm yet firm.

Cassandra nodded, still trying to process everything that had happened. Her body trembled, but not from fear anymore—pure anger surged within her.

"My coven is gone... they're all dead because of the hunters," Cassandra spat through gritted teeth, her hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white.

"You poor thing," Isolde said softly, her face adorned with a motherly, sympathetic expression.

"Do you want revenge on the hunters?" Rosellia asked, her tone more serious as she gazed down at Cassandra. The young witch kept her head lowered, shaking not from fear, but from the seething rage building up inside her. Tears streamed down her face.

"Yes... I hate them... I want them destroyed," Cassandra whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Rosellia gently grabbed Cassandra's face, tilting it upward so their eyes met. The gesture startled Cassandra, but she didn't pull away.

"You poor thing... you've suffered so much. Your hatred is almost blinding," Rosellia murmured. "But I can sympathize. I truly am sorry for what has happened to you."

Rosellia seemed to search for something in Cassandra's eyes. After a brief moment, she let go of Cassandra's face. "But you can't defeat any hunter in your current state. You need training—and a place to call home."

"A place to... to call home?" Cassandra echoed, her voice fragile.

Isolde smiled warmly, her hands resting on Cassandra's shoulders to reassure her. "Yes, my dear! We want you to come with us to our coven!"

Cassandra was dumbfounded. Morgana, standing nearby, placed a hand on Isolde's shoulder. "Calm down, Isolde. You're overwhelming her."

Isolde's eyes widened as she stepped back slightly. "O-oh, right. Sorry, I just got excited."

"You always get excited," Morgana said, crossing her arms over her chest. Isolde started to deny it, and the two of them began to argue slightly, though not maliciously.

Rosellia chuckled softly, amused by the interaction between her two sisters.

"W-Why?" Cassandra stammered, her voice filled with disbelief. She was gathering her thoughts, trying not to stammer.

All three women turned to look at her. Rosellia stepped forward again. "Why what?"

"Why would you want someone weak in your coven?" Cassandra asked, her voice shaky as she tried to make sense of it.

Isolde and Morgana exchanged glances before Rosellia spoke.

"You think you're weak?" Rosellia chuckled. "Cassandra, you're still young, but you're brimming with potential. Summoning not just one but two demonic entities on the fly is no small feat. Now, I have a question for you..."

She extended her hand toward Cassandra. "Don't you want to become stronger?"

Cassandra repeated the question over and over in her mind. She didn't just want to become stronger—she needed to. She craved revenge. She wanted the hunters to pay.

With newfound determination, she grasped Rosellia's hand firmly. "Yes, I want to become stronger!"

Rosellia smiled, clearly pleased by her answer. "Good. Then let's go—we have a long journey ahead of us"

Immediately, Isolde grabbed Cassandra's arm, pulling her along with bubbling enthusiasm. She bombarded Cassandra with questions about her favorite foods, clothing, and age, her lively nature flustering Cassandra a little.

Meanwhile, Morgana approached Rosellia.
"My Lady, do you really believe she has the potential to become strong?"

Rosellia laughed.'
"Morgana, you worry too much. And when have I ever steered us wrong?"

"Besides," Rosellia continued, her tone softening, "Circe said we would find her. I would recognize her by the fire in her eyes—anger and determination."

Morgana nodded respectfully.
"Yes, I didn't mean to question you."

Rosellia waved off the concern.
"You mean well. I'm curious myself—just how strong she'll become. Perhaps she'll even turn the tide of the war..."

Morgana's gaze shifted to Cassandra and Isolde, who were walking ahead of them.
"I certainly hope so."

Rosellia smiled and began walking again, Morgana following closely behind.

"All in due time," Rosellia said softly. "Now... let's go home."

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy and wait for the next update! Possibly bi-weekly or weekly, depending on how my studies go.